Chapter Six
Rawley eased his pickup backward onto the road, the tires crunching under the tires.
He rolled onto the asphalt road and paused, gripping the steering wheel as memories of that kiss flickered through his mind.
A slow smile lifted his lips. He started to turn toward home, then shook his head, shifted into drive, and aimed the truck back to Dewey’s.
He needed to know if those men were still lurking around, or if they’d slipped away unnoticed.
Pulling into the bar’s crowded lot, Rawley cursed under his breath at the sight of all the vehicles jostled into every available space.
Finally snagging a spot between a beat-up GMC pickup and a dually with mud-splattered fenders, he slammed the door, the hot evening air rushing in to greet him.
He strode to the doors, opened them, and entered.
He wove between clusters of patrons, scanning cowboy hats, no sign of the five who’d tried to make trouble earlier.
“Rawley? I thought you’d hightailed it home,” Scarlett said, her voice soft but teasing. Neon beer signs hummed behind her, casting a blue glow on her red hair.
“I did,” he admitted. “But some guys were giving Skylar a hard time, and I swear they followed us out of town. I wanted to see if they came back to the bar.”
Scarlett leaned forward, her forearms resting on the bar’s edge. Her eyes narrowed in thought. “One wore a brown cowboy hat, right? Had three or four fellas trailing him?”
Rawley nodded. His heart thudded at the memory. “That’s them.”
“They cleared out pretty quick after you left,” Scarlett said with a small smile, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Heard one of them cuss about not heading back to the motel.” She smiled. “There’s only one motel in this town.”
Rawley pushed back from the bar, the stool scraping softly against the floor. “Dalton’s. Thanks, Scarlett.”
“Anytime,” she replied, pulling a slim phone from her apron pocket. “I’ll shoot you a text if they come strolling back in here.”
“Please do.” He removed a business card from his wallet and slid it across to her. “Be sure Noah doesn’t catch you with this. I’m not looking to get my ass handed to me.”
Scarlett laughed, the sound bright in the dim bar. “He has no worries, and he knows it.”
Rawley touched the brim of his hat. “I’m sure. Have a good night.”
“You too.” She moved along the bar to help another customer.
He pushed through the doors, the summer air wrapping around him.
Climbing into the cab of his truck, he let the engine idle, then pulled out, steering onto Main Street and rolling toward Dalton’s, then pulling into the lot.
Moonlight glinted off chrome bumpers as he eased through the parking lot, driving slowly so he could inspect each truck.
His eyes locked onto a lifted Ford F-150 with oversized tires, the kind that left deep ruts in mud.
He jerked the truck to a halt, the engine sputtering into silence as he yanked the keys from the ignition.
He flung the door open, gravel crunching beneath his boots as he circled the vehicle.
Crouching low, he pulled out his phone, its blue light illuminating his face as he captured the mud-spattered Montana license plate, then photographed each tire’s worn treads, the rubber patterns distinct against the asphalt.
Task complete, he pocketed the phone and drove the long dark road home.
Pulling in by the back door, he grinned at the chorus of barks.
He opened the door into the kitchen, squatted to scratch their ears, feeling their warm fur and wagging tails against his palms. Standing, he removed his cowboy hat, perched it on the rack beside the others, then sat on the bench by the door to toe off his boots.
In the laundry room, he emptied his pockets, keys, wallet, his phone, then shrugged out of his jeans and shirt, tossing them in the hamper.
He snagged his phone, climbed the stairs in the kitchen, then wandered down the hallway, and slipped under the soft comforter in his bedroom.
With a final click, the TV flickered on, bathing the room in muted light as he scrolled for something to watch.
Picking up his phone, Rawley’s thumb hovered over the screen. It was late, past midnight and he didn’t want to disturb Skylar if she’d already fallen asleep, so he sent a message.
Are you alright? He watched the three gray dots pulse rhythmically.
I am, but still a little nervous.
I can understand that. Don’t hesitate to call me.
I won’t. Would you like to have dinner at my place tomorrow night?
He grinned. Yes.
Okay. Good. I’ll see you around six if that’s good for you.
It is. I’ll see you then. Sleep well.
You too. Good night.
Night.
Rawley plugged the charger into the phone, the small white cable snaking across his nightstand. He set the device face-down, then reached for the remote, scrolling through streaming options until settling on an old Western he’d seen a dozen times before.
****
Saturday morning, Skylar woke before the sun did. She was so nervous about Rawley coming to dinner tonight, plus the fact, she couldn’t stop thinking about those men following them. That scared her and she hoped they would leave her and Rawley alone.
As she sat at her desk in her office, she stared at the words on the screen, but they all ran together. She jumped when her phone vibrated against the desk. She picked it up to see Ryan’s smiling face and pressed answer.
“Hi,” she said.
“Good morning. I was hoping you were up,” Ryan said.
“I’ve been up since before the sun.”
“Why?”
Skylar took a deep breath and told her what had happened.
“Oh, my God! Skylar, you and Rawley should have called the sheriff’s department.”
“They didn’t do anything. Rawley wasn’t sure it was them in that truck and what could we say? That they were bothering me?”
“Yeah, I understand. I just hope they don’t come around.”
“I know. Me too. Between thinking about Rawley coming to dinner and those asshats, I’m a nervous wreck.”
“Why are you nervous about Rawley? You had a good time, other than those men, right?”
“Yes. He kissed me. Damn, he can kiss.” Skylar sighed, then smiled when Ryan laughed.
“Nothing better than a good kisser. I have one of those too.”
“Please stop. I am so jealous of how happy you and Seth are. He’s so in love with you.”
“And I feel the same about him.”
“I know you do. I am happy for you though. You know that.”
“Yes, I do. So, what are you making tonight?”
“Chicken Parmesan.”
“Oh, my favorite of yours. He’ll love it.”
“What if he doesn’t like chicken? Oh, my God! I have to ask him.”
Ryan laughed. “Yeah, maybe you should.”
“I’ll text him. You and Seth have a wonderful weekend.”
“You too. Let me know how tonight goes. Love you.”
“I will. Love you too.”
After disconnecting with Ryan, Skylar sent Rawley a text and hoped she wasn’t bothering him.
Do you like baked chicken parmesan? She smiled when she saw the bubbles.
Yes. Is that what you’re making?
It is.
Sounds good to me. How are you this morning?
I’m okay. You?
Same. I’m working in the barn, but I promise to shower before I show up tonight.
Skylar laughed. Please do.
Okay. I have to run, darlin’. Have a good day. I’ll see you tonight.
You have a good day too. See you later.
She disconnected and sighed. Darlin’. Sure, she knew it was just cowboy jargon, but it sure made her feel good.
At five forty-five, she put the dinner in the oven since it took thirty minutes, then she sat on the sofa to wait for him to get there. Her stomach in knots.
****
Rawley pulled into the driveway, shut the truck off, picked up the two yellow roses, opened the door and stepped out.
He walked to the porch and rang the doorbell.
When it opened, he ran his eyes over her and smiled.
She wore red sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt. He smiled and handed her the two roses.
“For you.”
“Thank you. You’re right on time,” she said as she swung the door open wider. “I hope you don’t mind about my clothes. I like being comfortable at home.”
“You look beautiful to me, sweetheart.” He grinned when a big smile lit up her face.
Rawley paused on the threshold, brushing his boots against the welcome mat.
He removed his hat, stepped into a softly lit foyer, and the warm, sweet scent of vanilla curled around him like a gentle invitation.
Since he hadn’t paid attention last night because she had looked too good to ignore, he glanced around.
Directly ahead, a set of gleaming white bifold doors stood; to his right, the living room unfolded in rich tones.
Polished mahogany floors reflected the light from the lamp on the end table beside a large yellow sofa, while a mahogany-framed fireplace, its carvings dark and lustrous, rested against the outer wall.
The front broad window looked out over the front porch draped in climbing wisteria.
Skylar extended her hand. “I’ll give you a quick tour,” she said.
He accepted her offer, and she guided him from the living room through an arched entryway.
The dining area beyond featured another hearth built into the far wall, with French doors standing ajar beside it.
Above, a trio of high windows welcomed the early evening sun into the space.
Come morning, he thought, sunlight would spill across the wooden table and illuminate the circular braided rug beneath it, its russet and gold fibers reminiscent of autumn leaves.
From there, Skylar guided him into the kitchen.
A row of sunlit windows stretched along the rear wall, their white frames accenting views of the trees that surrounded the house.
A glass-paned door beside them led to the deck beyond.
The white appliances gleamed with pale granite counters surrounding them.